Page 33 of Claiming His Rejected Mate

“Are you done?” he asks, his voice low, his face inches from mine.

I glare at him, my chest heaving. “Not even close.”

He smirks, the faintest hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. “You’re relentless. I’ll give you that.”

For a moment, we’re frozen, the air thick with his scent—smoke, pine, and spice—it fills my senses, grounding and maddening all at once.

But the moment shatters as a sharp knock echoes from the area of the door.

“Alpha,” Damon’s voice calls from the hallway. “We’ve got a situation in town. Eldon’s rogues have attacked one of the surveillance equipment warehouses. The meeting with Eldon can wait.”

Kieran curses under his breath, his grip on my wrists tightening for a brief second before he lets go.

He stands, his movements quick and deliberate, and glares down at me. “This isn’t over.”

I sit up, my body aching. This can’t be the end. “It never is with you.”

He turns to the door, his shoulders tense as he speaks to Damon. “I’ll be there in five minutes.”

Damon’s footsteps retreat, the echoes fading the farther he gets.

Kieran glances back at me, his blue eyes dark with something I can’t place. “You’re not going anywhere. And you will stay here until I say you can leave.” He drags both guards with ease and tosses them outside the room.

I want to yell at him, but all I manage is a frustrated growl. He leaves without another word, the door slamming shut behind him. I hear the lock click and Kieran barking orders at the guards that I assume have come to see what is going on.

I sit there for a moment, the silence pressing down on me like a weight. My wolf growls softly, her frustration mirroring my own.

Then I stand, my body trembling as I move to the window. The courtyard below is empty now, the stillness a stark contrast to the chaos raging inside me.

My chest aches, the bond humming faintly as I stare out into the fading evening light.

I’ve fought, I’ve resisted, but the truth is inescapable.

I’m still trapped.

The room feels colder somehow, despite the faint warmth seeping in through the wide windows. My pacing echoes softly against the polished wood floors, each step sharp and deliberate. The crimson dress clings to my skin, a reminder of Kieran’s arrogance, his need to control every aspect of my existence. I haven’t changed out of it, though it’s long since lost its novelty and elegance.

I should take it off, rip it apart even, but before I follow through on the thought, a knock on the door breaks my rhythm.

“Come in,” I say curtly, stopping mid-step. As if whoever it is won’t come in anyway.

A petite woman steps inside, her hands folded neatly in front of her. Her dark hair is pulled into a sleek bun, her plain uniform crisp and perfectly tailored. She radiates calm, her demeanor almost unnervingly serene.

“Miss Callister?” she asks softly, her voice gentle but steady.

I nod, eyeing her warily. “Who are you?”

“My name is Sylvia,” she says, bowing her head slightly. “I’ve been assigned as your maid.”

A maid. Of course. Another one of Kieran’s moves to corral me, to make me feel both pampered and trapped.

Sylvia steps farther into the room, her sharp eyes quickly assessing the state of it. Her gaze lingers on the leftover food. I ate only a small portion of what is on the table. The scattered remnants of it are all over after the fight earlier. She doesn’t comment, simply moving to tidy the disarray with practiced efficiency.

“I don’t need a maid,” I say, crossing my arms.

Sylvia glances at me briefly, her expression kind but unreadable. “Perhaps not. But I’m here nonetheless.”

She doesn’t press further, and I find myself grudgingly admiring her ability to remain unaffected by my simmering hostility.

---